Lucy's Journal

“The Case of the Missing Snacks”

Dear Journal,

This house has a serious problem. A crisis. A catastrophe of the highest order. All the snacks… have vanished. I, Detective Lucy Louise Fluffington, was enjoying my morning grape Kool-Aid (because I’m a lady of sophistication), when I noticed the treat jar was EMPTY. Not low. Not almost empty. EMPTY.

Naturally, I summoned the squad.

Kiwi flew in first, shouting, “EVERYONE REMAIN CALM! I REPEAT, PANIC IMMEDIATELY!” He is terrible at crisis management.

Peanut slinked in next, claiming she already had a theory, which she refused to share because she “wanted dramatic timing.” Typical cat.

Then the Quacker Twins waddled up, quacking over each other so badly that we understood absolutely nothing except maybe the word “snickerdoodle.”

Suspect List:

1. Peanut — because she looks sneaky 24/7

2. Kiwi — because he eats like five dinners a day

3. The Twins — because they are chaos with feathers

4. Myself — but only for fairness, because I am an honest detective and also innocent and perfect

We conducted interviews.

Kiwi swore on his favorite sunflower seed that he didn’t do it. Peanut refused to answer questions without “legal representation,” which was just a sock she called Mr. Flufferson. The Twins brought alibis in crayon. None of us can read duck handwriting.

Finally, I noticed a trail… tiny crumbs leading to the laundry room.

We followed them, hearts racing, suspense building, music swelling — and there, behind the basket of unmatched socks…

WE FOUND THE SNACKS.

And also: Peanut.
Curled up. With the treat jar. And crumbs on her face.

Peanut blinked at us and simply said, “I plead the Fifth.”

Case closed. Snacks retrieved. Peanut sentenced to 10 minutes of listening to Kiwi sing the “I’m Sorry” song, which is honestly a fate worse than any jail.

Disaster averted. Order restored. And I, Detective Lucy, remain the hero this household needs.

Until the next crisis,
— Lucy